


An Unlikely Marriage

by being_alive



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: AU, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Third Person, Rating May Change, Rating will probably change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-17 11:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive
Summary: Prince Escalus is not what she'd pictured when she was a child, fantasizing about her future life, imagining what her future husband would be like, Juliette thinks as she peers at him through the crowd, looking over Tybalt's shoulder.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I already have too many WIPs, but somehow here I am, starting yet another one.

Prince Escalus is not what she'd pictured when she was a child, fantasizing about her future life, imagining what her future husband would be like, Juliette thinks as she peers at him through the crowd, looking over Tybalt's shoulder.

She'd wanted to marry Tybalt for a short while when she was a child, before imagining falling in love with a handsome man from a family similar to hers. The Prince is the Prince of Verona, practically a stranger to her, and while he's tall, much taller than her, he's not particularly handsome, though not ugly either, simply ordinary. He's older than her, the same age as her mother, with hazel eyes, a long face, and brown hair that is starting to go grey at the temples early, though she supposes ruling over a city full of Montagues and Capulets is stressful enough to do that.

The musicians end one song and begin another. Tybalt looks down at her and asks, "One last dance?"

Juliette nods and they begin dancing again.

"I could kill him," Tybalt says, fingers digging into Juliette's back, almost bruisingly hard.

"No, Tybalt," Juliette says, sighing and then wincing, "And don't dig your fingers in like that. It hurts."

Tybalt nods and complies, sighing.

"I wish you hadn't had to marry him, Juliette."

"I wish the same," Juliette admits.

Tybalt looks down at her and says, "I could drive away your other suitors, but what could I do against the Prince of Verona? Nothing."

"Other suitors?" Juliette asks, confused. She'd known of a few, but the way Tybalt phrased it made it sound as if a great number of men had asked after her.

"Men have been asking for your hand since you were fourteen. Some your father denied, others I denied. The Prince's nephew, Paris, was one of them."

"I remember Paris, but I didn't know about the others," Juliette says.

Too soon, the song ends and then Tybalt's arms are around her, holding her in a hug that's almost too tight. Juliette hugs him in return.

"I love you, Tybalt," Juliette tells him.

"I love you too, cousin, more than you'll ever know," Tybalt replies.

"Am I interrupting something?" 

Tybalt pulls away from her and they both turn to look at the source of the voice.

"Juliette, Tybalt," Mercutio says from beside them.

"Mercutio," Tybalt says, glaring at him.

"Good evening, Mercutio," Juliette says.

"I was wondering if I could have a dance with you, Juliette," Mercutio says, smiling. Juliette looks at Tybalt and then back at Mercutio before saying, "Of course."

"If you try anything," Tybalt begins before Mercutio interrupts with, "Yes, yes, you'll kill me. I've heard it a thousand times before, and from men much more intimidating than you."

Juliette smiles, trying to hold back her laughter, and Tybalt kisses her on the cheek before glaring at Mercutio and then stalking away.

Mercutio takes Tybalt's place as Juliette's dance partner as the next song begins. Juliette can't ever remember being this close to him before, but she's heard many things about him from Tybalt, very few of them flattering. There are few similarities between Mercutio and Prince Escalus, Juliette notices. Mercutio isn't much taller than Juliette herself and prettier than some of her female cousins, his brown hair longer than hers and full of curls, his face vaguely feminine, and his build slim. His eyes are the same as his uncle's, however, hazel and with the same shape. She wonders if the Prince's eyelashes are as long as his nephew's, but pushes that thought from her mind. For a brief second, Juliette wishes she'd been married to him instead, but pushes that thought out of her mind even more quickly than she did her previous one.

"It's getting late," Mercutio says, "and soon it'll just be you and my uncle. It looks like guests are already starting to leave."

"Don't remind me," Juliette says without thinking, and Mercutio laughs.

"He's not a bad man. A bit serious, and not too handsome, but I think you'll like him, at the very least," Mercutio says.

"I hope so."

Mercutio smiles widely as he says, one hand wandering lower than her waist, "Though should he ever fail to satisfy you, my bed is always open."

"Mercutio!" Juliette exclaims, face reddening. He laughs and returns his hand to her waist.

"Sorry, sorry. I just couldn't resist," Mercutio says. Juliette glares at him and he laughs again.

The song ends and Mercutio steps back from her.

"Well, I suppose I should be going now. It looks like your Nurse wants to speak with you. Goodbye for now, Juliette."

"Goodbye, Mercutio," Juliette says, turning to see the Nurse walking towards her. 

"Oh, Juliette," the Nurse breathes out, throwing her arms around Juliette.

"Nurse," Juliette says in return, wrapping her arms around the woman who helped raise her, the woman whose shoulder was always there to cry on, whose hands were always ready to wipe away tears, who loved Juliette just as much as if she was her own daughter, who loved Juliette perhaps more than her own mother did.

"Look at you, Juliette. You're a married woman now, with no need for your poor, old Nurse," the Nurse says, pulling back from Juliette, with tears in her eyes.

"I will always need you," Juliette says, feeling tears of her own well up in her eyes. The Nurse shakes her head slightly and wipes her eyes before saying, "You be sure to come back and visit your old Nurse occasionally.

"I will, I promise," Juliette says before hugging the Nurse again. They separate and then the Nurse leaves, and Juliette realizes that the only ones left are her and her new husband. Her heart is in her throat as the Prince approaches her.

"Juliette," he says, stopping in front of her.

"Prince Escalus," she says in return.

"You don't have to say the Prince part. Just Escalus is fine," he says and she nods, her brown eyes meeting his gaze only for a moment before darting away. The thought of just calling him Escalus without the 'Prince' in front of it seems strange to her, like it's not something she's supposed to do despite the fact that she is his wife now, and no longer simply a citizen of Verona.  
After a too-long moment of awkward silence, the Prince clears his throat and offers her his arm, saying, "Well, shall we?"

Juliette nods and takes his arm, nervousness steadily building inside of her, as they begin to walk up the stairs and eventually to where the bedrooms surely are. She's eighteen now and would have been married much earlier than now if it hadn't been for Tybalt, she thinks to herself in an attempt to reassure herself. It doesn't work. She hadn't even had her first kiss until earlier in the day and now she's going to have to be bedded by the very man who had claimed her first kiss. Her husband, Juliette thinks, panic building inside of her. She's not ready for any of this. Before she even realizes it, having been too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice much about where they'd been going, they're standing outside of a door that Juliette can only assume leads to what will be her bedroom from now on.

"Here is your room. My room is the one next to it," the Prince says, gesturing to the door and then looking down at Juliette.

"We're not going to share a bed?" Juliette asks, surprise and confusion overtaking her simultaneously.

"I will not make you share my bed until you want to or if you want to," is the Prince's reply. The surprise and confusion overtaking Juliette's body is replaced by relief at the revelation that he won't force her to join him in bed. In all honesty, that was the part she'd been dreading the most.

"Thank you," she breathes out. The Prince nods and says, "I'm afraid that your parents haven't finished sending all of your belongings over, so the room may appear barren."

"Thank you, again," she says, a small smile appearing on her face.

"It's no trouble at all, Juliette," the Prince says. Something about the way he says her voice makes butterflies flutter in her stomach and she quickly glances away.

"I'm sure you must be tired. I'll let you sleep and then show you around in the morning," the Prince says, and she releases his arm to lay her hand on the door.

"Goodnight, Prince Escalus," she says. A hint of a smile appears on his face as he bends to kiss her other hand. She can feel a faint blush appear on her face before the Prince straightens up and nods curtly before saying, "Until tomorrow, Juliette."

Juliette watches as he opens the door to his own bedroom and goes inside before going into her bedroom. She sits down on her new bed and sighs, her head in her hands, as she wonders what her life is going to be like from now on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Juliette wakes up, the sun is already high in the sky, filling her bedroom with blinding light because she forgot to close the curtains last night. With a groan, she grabs a spare pillow and covers her face with it, rolling onto her side, away from the window. As she lays there, she realizes that it has been three months to the day since she married the Prince, and in these three months, Juliette has slowly but surely settled into her new life as the Prince's wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about this!

When Juliette wakes up, the sun is already high in the sky, filling her bedroom with blinding light because she forgot to close the curtains last night. With a groan, she grabs a spare pillow and covers her face with it, rolling onto her side, away from the window. As she lays there, she realizes that it has been three months to the day since she married the Prince, and in these three months, Juliette has slowly but surely settled into her new life as the Prince's wife. The first month was the hardest, the second somewhat easier, and the third almost normal. She's found that the hardest adjustment was not seeing her Nurse, Tybalt, her parents, and all her cousins as much as she used to, but even that has gotten better because she still sees them enough to not completely miss them. She supposes that's one good thing about being married to the Prince of Verona, that she got stay in the city she's known all her life.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door, startling her from her musings. With a sigh, Juliette reluctantly casts her pillow aside and gets out of bed. She grabs a robe from over the back of a chair, pulls it on over her nightgown, and makes her way to the door before unlocking it and pulling it open.

"Good day," she says to the man standing there, a man she recognizes as a servant of the Prince's.

"Good day to you as well. The Prince sent me to ask you if you would like to join him for a walk in the gardens," the servant says.

"Thank you. Will you please tell him that I accept and that I will meet him there shortly?" Juliette asks and the servant nods before turning and walking off. She shuts the door then and leans back against it, her mind racing with thoughts of what could possibly be the reason the Prince wants to see her, because this is unusual, and very much so. She and the Prince only see each other at dinner, really, and sometimes when he walks her to her room afterwards, but never something like this. He's always too busy during the day to spare much time other than that, or at least that's what she imagines he'd tell her if she asks why he doesn't spend more time with her. She can't really blame him, though, because it's not as if he's some simple merchant or artisan, and she has no doubt that Prince of Verona is a demanding position to hold. However, even despite that, she can't help but feel as if she's being slighted, because the Prince was the one who wanted to marry her but now seems to have little time for him. 

Shaking her head as if to clear it, Juliette undoes the tie of her robe and decides to not call a servant in to help her dress this morning. After dressing and freshening herself up, Juliette makes her way from her room and to the gardens, noting with satisfaction that she managed to not get lost in the halls of the Prince's home as she emerges into the bright sunlight of outside and the scent of flowers floating on the gentle breeze. The Prince is easy for her to spot, standing out amongst all the colors in the garden in his plain tan clothes.

"Good day," Juliette says, coming to stand beside him.

"Good day, Juliette," the Prince states before continuing, seemingly out of the blue," I often come out here in order to clear my mind."

Juliette nods, wondering why he's telling her this before remembering that they're married and there's no need for her to not know. Even after three months, seeing the Prince as a man and not just the ruler of Verona is still somewhat odd for Juliette. She replies, "It is very nice out here."

"I hope I didn't wake you," the Prince says after moment of silence that is just beginning to turn awkward.

"You didn't, my lord," Juliette replies, glancing at him and then back at the flowers in front of them.

"There's no need to call me that when it's just us," the Prince says, and when Juliette looks back at him, she finds a hint of the slightest smile upon his lips.

"My apologies. It's simply an old habit, and something that I always thought I would refer to you as," Juliette replies, before continuing in a sudden flash of boldness, "And perhaps if we spent more time together, then I would have an easier time breaking the habit."

Her eyes meet his, brown on hazel, before he looks away, his smile turning into a sheepish one as he replies, "You make a completely valid point. I'm so sorry about that, because even though I've been busy I still should've taken the time for you, and I promise to make a better effort from this day on."

The Prince looks back at her then and Juliette nods, before simply stating, "Thank you."

"To tell the truth, I didn't really think you'd want to spend much time with me," the Prince admits. Juliette looks at him in confusion before asking, "And why wouldn't I? Am I not supposed to want to get to know the man I had to marry?"

Prince Escalus doesn't answer, and instead falls into silence that Juliette copies. They stand there for Juliette doesn't know how long, the only sounds around them the sounds of the gardens, until the Prince says, abruptly, "Look at these flowers here. I had them brought over from the Capulet gardens after our wedding."

Eyes widening in surprise, she turns her gaze towards the direction he's pointing. She knows that she's supposed to look more closely at the flowers and admire them properly and that she should because they're Capulet flowers, but she can't help but to be distracted by Prince Escalus. He does have nice hands, she thinks, admits to herself, resting her gaze on the hand currently pointing towards the cluster of flowers instead of gazing upon the flowers themselves. His hands are large, but appear almost feminine, with long, thin fingers. Her mind briefly flashes to what it would feel like to have those long fingers touch her in more intimate places than just her hand or arm, but she quickly pushes that thought away, feeling her cheeks starting to heat up. It's much too soon to be thinking of him like that, even if they are married, because even though they've been married three months, she barely knows him, this tall, older, serious and still all too mysterious Prince is still very much a stranger to her.

A hint of a smile is playing at his lips when she looks back at his face. She quickly looks away, feeling her cheeks heating up even more.

"The flowers are very beautiful," she says after a moment.

"Yes," Prince Escalus says, still looking at her, "But they are far from the most beautiful thing in this garden."

Juliette looks back at him in confusion, wondering just what could be more beautiful than the flowers. It takes her a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in and for her to realize that he's speaking of her, but when they do she quickly glances away from him, feeling her cheeks burning even more than they were previously. She can't help but wonder if he's going to kiss her and if she'd mind if he did. She doesn't think so, or at least not in this moment. If he does, it'd be the first time he has since their wedding, and that was so long ago and so brief that she's forgotten what his lips felt like against hers. He might not even want to kiss her again, since the only times he's even touched her have been when they've walked arm in arm or an accidental brush of his fingers against hers at dinner. Though perhaps that's just for her benefit, she reflects, because he doesn't know that she's thinking about kissing him and he's been nothing but respectful so far. She wonders what he would do if he knew what she's thinking of, if he would he bend and press his lips to hers or would he prefer it if she stood on the tips of toes and pressed her lips to his, or if he would just smile.

Belatedly, she realizes that he's still looking at her, still studying her, and that there's no way he doesn't see how pink her face has more than likely gotten, and finally she says, "Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me for speaking what is true," the Prince replies, softly, lifting one hand slightly, hesitating, and then reaching to place his hand upon her cheek. His hand is cool compared to her overheated face and her heart seems to beat even faster in her chest as he bends, ever so slightly, as if to press his lips to hers and kiss her. In this moment, Juliette thinks, no, she knows, she would gladly welcome the press of his lips to hers.

"My lord," a servant calls out from the shade of the building. "Count Paris has arrived and would like to speak with you."

The Prince's hand falls from her face as he straightens and his face darkens and he mutters something that sounds a lot like, "Goddamn it."

Juliette takes a half a step back from him, looking up at him and realizing what likely would've happened between them had the servant not interrupted. Oddly enough, she finds herself regretting only that the intrusion occurred, and not that the Prince looked as if he was going to kiss her. 

"I'll see you later tonight, at dinner. You and I can talk more then," the Prince says, looking down at her, the darkness gone from his face and replaced by his usual much too tired and slightly too serious expression.

"Until then," Juliette says, far too breathily for her liking, and then the Prince is reaching up and brushing her cheek with his fingers before turning and leaving, walking back inside, past the servant, who remains standing in the same spot he was before, only looking at Juliette now.

"You have a visitor, my lady," the servant calls out to her.

"Who is it?" Juliette asks in return, beginning to walk in that direction as well.

"A relative of yours. Tybalt, I think he said his name was, my lady," the servant replies. Juliette is unable to keep the smile off of her face as she stops walking and calls to the servant, "Tell him to come out here, please."

The servant nods and turns, waking back inside, before returning only moments later with Tybalt behind him. Tybalt makes his way towards her and Juliette meets him halfway, embracing him while the servant turns and walks back inside.

"Tybalt! It's good to see you," Juliette says after they separate.

"The same to you, cousin. I can't stay for long, though" Tybalt says, glancing around the gardens quickly, as if he's afraid something might jump out and attack him.

"Why not?" Juliette asks, fixing Tybalt with her best pout.

"The longer I stay, the greater the chance is that Mercutio will find me," Tybalt admits with a grimace. Juliette laughs and links her arm with his before saying, "Surely you can spare enough time for a short walk long enough to tell me what's going on at home now that I'm not around to witness all the drama and the like."

Tybalt smiles down at her and then they're walking, arm in arm, and he's telling her about everything that's happening at home, about the fight with the Montagues from three days ago, about all the petty squabbles between their cousins, reminding her of her father's upcoming birthday celebration, and finally, telling her about how one of the Montague boys has supposedly fallen in love with their cousin Rosaline. The first three are no surprise to Juliette, but the fourth is, and causes her to stop in her tracks and ask, "Really? And does she return his affections?"

Tybalt laughs and replies, "Rosaline? Do you really have to ask?"

"That's fair," Juliette replies, thinking back to Rosaline, who is as beautiful as an angel but who also has always chosen scripture over talking of boys and would likely have joined the nearest convent years ago had her mother not forbid it. They continue walking and talking after that, but all too soon, Tybalt stops walking and Juliette knows that it's time for him to go. She unlinks her arm from his and then they turn to look at one another.

"I miss you, Juliette. Promise me you'll come visit and stay for a while soon," Tybalt says, clasping her hands in his.

"I will, I promise," Juliette says in return, standing on the very tips of her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. Tybalt clasps her hands tighter before letting go and turning, walking back the way he came. Juliette watches him and then leaves the gardens herself, finding her way back to her bedroom in order to wait for dinner time and what the Prince wants to speak to her about.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she finally reaches the door to his study, she doesn't even bother to knock before opening the door and walking inside.
> 
> "Good evening," the Prince tells her without looking up yet. She takes the opportunity to smooth her skirt down, and then replies, "Good evening."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for how long it's been since the last chapter!

An hour before dinner, Juliette sets her embroidery down and goes to look at herself in the mirror. She smooths the skirt of her dress down, wondering if she should change into something nicer. It's silly, she knows, but she wants him to look at her again, the way he did in the gardens. She knows she was wearing this dress earlier, but part of her wants to wear something even nicer. She rakes her fingers through her hair, conflicted, before walking over to her wardrobe and pulling it open. 

She stares at the dresses within it before pulling one out. She changes out of her current dress and into this dress before going over the mirror to look at herself again. The dress she's wearing now is one of her older ones, but it's always been one of her favorites, and besides she's always felt more confident in red. The fact that it has a lower neckline than the dress she was wearing earlier is simply a coincidence, she tells herself before going to brush her hair again because it got mussed when she was changing. Moments after she sets her hairbrush down, there's a knock on the door. Juliette congratulates herself on her timing and then she's walking over to the door and opening it. Outside stands the servingman that always tells her when dinner is ready.

"Good evening," she tells him, smiling. The servingman nods and replies, "Good evening to you as well. The Prince sent me to let you know that dinner is ready, and that he is waiting for you in his study."

"Thank you," she tells him, and then he's stepping aside to let her pass on her way to the Prince's study. She tries not to walk too quickly, for fear of tripping, but even then she still walks far more quickly than she normally does, her nervous excitement giving her speed. When she finally reaches the door to his study, she doesn't even bother to knock before opening the door and walking inside.

"Good evening," the Prince tells her without looking up yet. She takes the opportunity to smooth her skirt down, and then replies, "Good evening."

"Weren't you wearing a different dress earlier?" The Prince asks, finally looking up at her, a slight expression of confusion on his face.

"I was," she replies, her heart beating faster, as she thinks of an excuse she could give because she's not brave enough to tell him the truth, that she wanted him to look at her, to notice her, so instead she says, "But I spilled something on the sleeve, so I changed."

"All right," the Prince says, his eyes flicking down briefly before returning to her face. The fact that he looked gives her a brief flash of confidence, enough to ask, "Does it displease you?"

"No," he replies, quickly, before taking a drink of wine and after a moment, continuing, "No. Quite the opposite, really."

"I'm glad," she replies, and then takes the seat opposite him. Surprise flashes in his eyes for one brief moment before he covers it up by taking another drink of wine. Juliette smiles to herself and begins cutting into her food.

After a few moments of silence, the Prince begins, almost hesitantly, "I've been thinking about our conversation earlier."

She nods, her heart beating faster, and waits for him to continue speaking.

"I want to get to know you better," he admits, reaching out and just ever so slightly brushing her hand with his fingertips before pulling back and continuing, "I really do, and I realize now how unfair I've been to you by never taking the time to really spend with you."

"I know being the Prince isn't an easy job, so I can't fault you for that," she says. "But thank you. I want to get to know you too."

"I'm glad to know that you feel as such," the Prince says, the slightest hint of a smile curving the corners of his lips upwards as he continues, "And I have taken the liberty of clearing my schedule for tomorrow so that we may spend the day together."

"Oh," she says, a smile of her own appearing on her face as heat rushes to her cheeks. After a moment, she manages to say, "Thank you."

The Prince nods in response before asking, "If you'd like, tomorrow at noon we could take either a walk through the city or around the gardens here. Whichever one you prefer is fine with me."

She thinks for a moment, considering both options. It's been some time since she last ventured into the city, but at the same time they could run into anyone in the streets. The gardens are private, but at the same time, the gardens seem almost too safe of a choice, and besides they were just there earlier today. She's about to tell him that she'd prefer to go into the city when she remembers the flowers, the Capulet flowers that he'd had brought over for her, and instead says, "The gardens sound lovely."

"The gardens it is, then," he says, reaching out and brushing her cheek with his fingers before returning to his meal. That simple touch alone is enough to send heat flashing through her and she quickly returns to her meal as well, trying to distract herself self from how fast her heart is beating.

They finish the rest of their dinner in silence, as they often do, though now Juliette does notice that he looks, actually looks, at her more often than he usually does, more than just little glances when he doesn't think she notices. Now, there are several times when their eyes will meet, brown and hazel locked for several long moments in which her heart beats faster than it normally does, before one of them eventually glances away, even if neither of them actually says anything. After dinner, like always, they walk arm in arm up to her bedroom. As they reach her room, she finds herself thinking of her embroidery and how she'd wanted to do something with the Prince's color or colors, but she was unsure of what to use.

"Prince Escalus?" She asks, unlinking her arm from his and looking up at him.

"Yes?" He replies, and she continues, "What is the official color of your family? The Capulets have red, and the Montagues blue, but what about you?"

"Purple," the Prince replies, simply.

"Why do you never wear it, then?" Juliette asks, leaning towards him in interest. The Prince shrugs and replies, "I find it too...showy, I suppose. I much prefer simple, plain colors."

Somehow, that doesn't surprise Juliette.

"You wear tan the most often. Is that your favorite color?"

"It was," he says.

"But not anymore?" She asks, curious.

"Recently, I've found myself developing a fondness for red," he replies, and she can feel her cheeks heat up once more.

She bites the inside of her cheek, contemplating her next move, and then in a flash of bravery, stands upon the tips of her toes in order to press a kiss to his cheek before opening her bedroom door. 

"Goodnight," she says, her cheeks burning even more before she pulls her door shut. Just before the door closes, she can see him reach up and touch his cheek.

The next morning, Juliette wakes up early, much earlier than noon. She eats the breakfast that one of the servants left for her, then freshens up and gets dressed. By the time she's fully dressed, in red again, even with shoes on, she's disappointed to notice that there's still some time before noon. With a sigh, Juliette picks up her embroidery and resumes stitching a row of flowers onto the strip of fabric. Eventually, she plans to add flowers to the hem of the skirt of one of her dresses, but for right now, she's just practicing, even if she finds herself distracted by thoughts of the Prince. 

She's thinking of him more than she ever thought she would, she realizes, and wonders if perhaps she's starting to develop feelings for him, feelings as a woman has for her husband. She's being absurd, she thinks, because while the Prince might be her husband, there's no way that she could be growing to feel such a way for him. She can count on one hand all the times she's seen him smile, plus he's always busy, and he's plain-featured and older than her besides.

But then again, all the times she's seen him smile have been because of her, and he's not a bad man, just a busy one, and she supposes that he's not an ugly man, per se, and the grey at his temples could possibly be considered dashing. With another sigh, Juliette sets her embroidery to the side and stands up and finds that enough time has passed that she can go ahead and go to the gardens and wait for the Prince to arrive. If she's terribly early, then so be it, because at least then she could walk around a little and try to clear her head. When she arrives in the gardens, she finds that she is not alone.

"Good day, Mercutio," she calls out, wondering just what exactly he's doing here. She knows that he lives here too, but what she doesn't know is what he's doing in the gardens right now. Mercutio turns around, a broad smile on his face as he replies, "And good day to you too, lovely Juliette."

She makes her way towards him, and he meets her halfway. She looks up at him and asks, "So what brings you to the gardens today?"

"Oh, just the fact that I've heard that you and my uncle are having a rendezvous here at noon and I was hoping to catch you alone before then," Mercutio replies, still smiling. She's beginning to see why Tybalt often talks of wanting to punch that smile off of Mercutio's face, because there's something about the way Mercutio is smiling that is off somehow. He seems joyful enough, but it doesn't seem to be an honest joy, and more as if he is joyful at the expense of other people. Frowning, Juliette asks, "And why is that?"

"Tell me, has the marriage been consummated yet?" Mercutio asks, leaning in closer and looking at her with curiosity written across his face. She looks at him, face burning and mouth agape because joy at her expense indeed, before sputtering, "That's none of your business!"

Mercutio raises his eyebrows as he asks, "So you have, then?"

"No!" Juliette exclaims, her voice rising in pitch to the point that she's sure her repudiation sounds more like a squeak than an actual word. Mercutio actually has the nerve to pout as he says, "Damn. At this rate, Roméo and Benvolio are going to win the bet."

"You...bet on the consummation of my marriage?" She asks, scarcely able to believe what she's hearing.

"Yes," Mercutio replies, simply, bluntly. Juliette shakes her head in disbelief as she says, "I'm probably going to regret asking this, but what exactly is the bet on?"

Mercutio replies, a hint of a smile on his face, "We bet on how long it'll take for the marriage to be consummated, and the one who gets it the closest wins. Roméo thinks it'll be a year and a half, Benvolio says a little before a year, and I think half a year, because, well, he is _my_ uncle, after all."

"You're horrible," Juliette says, unable to think of anything else to say. Mercutio smiles fully again and then says, "Thank you. Oh, well, speak of the devil. Here comes my uncle."

Juliette looks in the same direction that Mercutio is looking in and sure enough, here comes the Prince. At the sight of him, her heart skips a beat and all thoughts of Mercutio's bet fly right out of her head.

"I suppose I'll be taking my leave, then," Mercutio says, and does so, walking away from her and towards the Prince.

"Good day, uncle," she can hear Mercutio say, and then the Prince replies, "Good day, Mercutio."

They pass by each other, with Mercutio leaving and the Prince walking over to her.

"Good day, Juliette," he says, coming to stand beside her. She looks up at him and says in return, "Good day to you too."

"Shall we?" the Prince asks, offering Juliette his arm. She links her arm with his and then they're walking, albeit at a slow pace, deeper into the gardens. She looks around, gazing upon the beauty in the nature around them, at the trees and the flowers and everything else. After several moments of silent walking, the Prince says, "Since we both want to get to know one another better, I thought that we could ask each other questions. Is there anything you want to know about me, Juliette?" 

There are a thousand things she's wanted to ask him in the three months they've been married, but now that she actually has the opportunity to ask him them, most of them have fled her mind, leaving her with only, "How old are you exactly?"

The Prince glances down at her and then replies, "Thirty-four, currently, though I'll be thirty-five in October."

She nods, contemplating that. So he's younger than her mother by a couple of years, younger than her father by well over a decade, but older than her by roughly fifteen years, give or take a couple of months. The age difference between her parents is sixteen years, if she's remembering it correctly, so this knowledge does make her feel better in a way about the difference in age between her and the Prince.

"Am I younger or older than you had imagined?" the Prince asks, and when she looks over at him, she finds him smiling teasingly. If he keeps smiling, she thinks, her face growing hot, she'll soon have to remove 'can count on one hand how many times she's seen him smile' from his list of faults. She looks away from him and back towards the path in front of them as she replies, "Somehow a bit of both, I think."

"It's the grey in my hair, isn't it?"

Juliette looks back at him and finds him smiling again, but wryly this time. She bites the inside of her cheek, wondering if she should say what she's thinking, what she thought earlier, before deciding to just do it and saying, "I think the grey is dashing."

"Thank you," the Prince replies as he blinks in surprise before asking, "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

She thinks for a moment, trying to remember what other questions she'd wanted to ask but never had, and finally she remembers. 

"Do you have any nephews or nieces besides Mercutio and Paris?" Juliette asks, because of the issue of heirs, of who would be the Prince's heir if she and he never...made an heir.

"I have one other nephew by the name of Valentine," the Prince replies.

"I don't think I ever came into contact with him," she says, relieved that there would be someone other than Mercutio, who judging by what she's seen and what Tybalt has told her of him would not make a very good Prince, and Paris, because while she doesn't know much of him, she doesn't quite trust what she does know, that would become Prince in the event that she and the Prince never did _that_ or even if they did but didn't have a child.

"You probably didn't. He's Mercutio's brother and older than him by several years. He left Italy for France and the daughter of a minor noble a few years back," the Prince replies, sounding almost sad.

"I'm sorry," she says, because she's not sure what else to say, because she tries to imagine what it'd be like if Tybalt has left Verona, but she just can't. The Prince shrugs and says, "Don't be. He always hated it here and is much happier now."

For all of Verona's faults, this is her home, and she can't imagine hating it, perhaps being slightly unhappy sometimes, but never hating it or wanting to leave, so she asks, "Why did he hate it here?"

The Prince smiles sadly and then replies, "Valentine was a gentle boy who grew into a gentle man, and the violence of the city has never sat well with him."

"I see," Juliette says, suddenly sad for the Prince and sad for Valentine, even if she's only starting to get to know one and doesn't know the other at all. They walk in silence after that, until the Prince breaks it by asking, "What about you? Any relatives you're especially fond of?"

"Mostly just Tybalt, and my Nurse, though I would occasionally spend time with a few of my other cousins, mainly Rosaline, Elisa, and Carlotta. To tell the truth, they and I really only spent time together because of the fact that we all happened to be fairly close together in age," she explains, glancing over at the Prince before adding, "We all have different interests that don't always mesh well with one another's. Some do, but most of them don't."

"What are some of the things you're interested in, then?" The Prince asks, glancing down at her as well. He looks genuinely interested in what she has to say, and that alone is enough to bring heat to her cheeks as she thinks for a moment before replying, "I enjoy embroidery but I'm only decent at it, along with playing the harp. I enjoy reading as well, but I often find myself distracted whenever I sit down to read."

The Prince nods and almost as an afterthought she adds, "I also like flowers."

A small smile appears on his face as he asks, "What would you say your favorite flower is?"

Roses, red ones, she almost says, because that's what she's always said because that's what she's always thought her favorite flower was. Now, however, she pauses, thinking back to the flowers the Prince had brought over from the Capulet gardens for her and says instead, "Peonies."

Juliette meets his eyes, and finds in his hazel gaze the same look he had the previous day, when they were in the gardens and he was showing her the aforementioned flowers, when she thought he might have kissed her. She briefly glances away from him and then back at him before asking, trying to take her mind off of thoughts of kissing him, "What about you? What are some things you enjoy doing?"

The Prince hums while he thinks before replying, "I don't often have the free time to do much of anything, but I do enjoy reading and playing chess. When I was younger, I would occasionally write poetry."

"Really? You wrote poetry?" She asks, because the thought of him doing so is so unlike what she knows of him, because poetry is so emotional and he's so serious.

"I did," he replies. "But I'm afraid they were all horrible, or maybe they just seem as such to me now." 

Juliette nods and then says, "I've never played chess before. Will you teach me how?"

"I'd love to," the Prince replies, smiling once more. "If you'd like, we could return to my study and I could teach you how today."

"I'd like that," she replies, and links her arm with his. His smile widens at her response and her heart skips a beat because of how his smile turns his plain features almost into ones of beauty. Arm in arm, they begin walking back through the gardens and to the building. As they walk, the Prince begins explaining what the pieces are and what they do, gesturing with his free hand as he talks, only to cut off abruptly as a servingman comes dashing over to them, red-faced and frantic.

"It's the Capulets and the Montagues," the servingman says, and that's all it takes for Prince Escalus's expression to turn into one of what Juliette can only describe as pure, unbridled _rage_ , an expression that looks more at home on Tybalt's face than it does on his. There's been another brawl, Juliette realizes, and likely quite a large one, for the servingman to have arrived with such urgency.

"Goddamn it all," the Prince swears, audibly this time, before turning to her and unlinking his arm from her before saying, "I apologize for this, but it seems as if I must leave you to deal with this."

"Go," she states simply, before adding, "I understand. I'll see you at dinner."

The Prince nods, reaching up to brush her cheek with his fingertips before turning and hastening after the servant, leaving her alone in the gardens.


End file.
